Two Weeks
by Archaz
Summary: Finn is left immobilized after a nasty battle predicating an impending war and left alone in his bed in the Candy Kingdom infirmary. During a respite from the fighting, Marceline frequents him with visits and begins unveiling her past with Bubblegum and how they met. Meanwhile they're trying to find a way to save themselves from the interloping humans. M for all the good stuff
1. Chapter 1

**Just a little something that was on my mind. Not sure if I'll continue, but maybe some review will help sway the decision. ;)**

Finn the Human had always been restless. Never one to break for long, he always preferred running, jumping, climbing, learning, fixing, adventuring – anything, to doing nothing. Ever since he was young, he and Jake had taken to the land, wherever and whenever. Life was pretty rockin' when your brother could morph into anything and beat the bricks out of almost anyone. Watching Jake had made Finn fearless and thirsty to be a fighter, an explorer, a hero. And he was.

Not today though. Or any day soon. He would be in this bed for the long haul, glob it. He had been told by Doctor Princess that he'd been out for three days. There would be many more to come.

He hadn't felt this fidgety and depressed since he'd broken his legs. At least then he'd had the wheelchair. And hey, maybe part of that restlessness was fear that everyone would disappear again. For good this time. People disappeared forever in times like these. People died.

Oh yes, people died when there was war.

Useless. That's what he was. Angry at himself and the buttknuckle who'd almost sliced him in half. He was supposed to be the Candy Kingdom's Champion; personal Knight and protector of their princess and here he was stuck for glob knows how long in a stupid bed in the middle of the infirmary. It was hard to feel anything aside from disappointment in himself. Bubblegum had been counting on him and he let her down. Nearly slayed by the last thing Finn had ever thought he would face.

Humans.

It started a little over a year ago. They had arrived by the boatload on the shores of the Eastern Caves. A couple thousand. So much for his reign as Last Human. Finn hadn't minded. It was a boring title anyway.

They claimed they were from a land far away from Ooo. Days upon days of travel on their worn, wooden ships. It had been clear from the beginning they feared the land's citizens. Blades and weapons drawn, they advanced inland. When they realized most of the citizens existed - could talk, they were baffled and befuddled. The leaders of the kingdoms took to meeting with them. Where and why had they come?

Claims of their land being taken over. Forced to flee. Stink and rot of radioactivity permeating from them. Even after the royalty gave them land, allowed them to settle, their paranoia was obvious. Hostile even to those who were friendly; audacious demands to the kingdoms. Not all of them were bad. Finn could say that, but the population in general; something was amuck. Something stank. Something familiar. Marceline said it was their nature. Their nature that got them killing themselves off in the first place. Finn smelled Lich.

It didn't take long before their delusionary visions and fear caused them to attack. It seemed like the old, "get them before they get us", routine. Ooo might not have been perfect. Ooo might not always be fair and just, but the kingdoms kept to themselves mostly – were friendly, respectful. They avoided war at all costs. Greed appeared to lay heavy in humans.

It was amazing how much they had gained somewhat of an upper hand, even outnumbered their native citizens. Ooo had never seen a large war though. They didn't know how to deal with it. Half of Ooo's citizens couldn't wield a weapon, let alone move very efficiently. Whoever wasn't made out of edible food, had other dire weaknesses. They doused the oncoming battalion from the fire kingdom with water. They'd stolen every as many counter spells as they could from Wizard city in a pre-emptive strike before they declared war. The Ice Kingdom was attacked with fire, and beasts of the night were ambushed by sunlight.

For such small, weak things, the humans were crafty, cunning and dangerous.

Finn was ashamed to be one.

He knew in his heart the people who mattered and cared about him didn't see him that way. It still nagged at him. The potential he had within his being to be so…nasty. Speaking of said people; he glanced out the window. Dim oranges and purples began to paint the sky. It was getting late. Jake had already been to visit. He was back with Lady and his hooligan kids. Grown as they were, they were all shacking up together as the war treaded on. Jake knew Finn was as safe as he could be at the castle, but feared being separated from his family. Finn understood. There was currently no battle raging outside or in the recently bloodied fields of the grasslands, as a brief respite that would last for an indefinite amount of time had taken place. Though that didn't mean there wasn't more to come. Peppermint Butler had told him this upon his awakening when Finn demanded to know what was going on – where his friends were. Where Bubblegum was.

The Princess and Marceline were attending negotiations. Peppermint said they should be back by sundown. Anxious jitters again. The sun was setting. Finn wished he were there; to have their backs, to be privy to what was going on. To make sure nobody laid a finger upon them. He was alone in the infirmary, as the candy citizens who were wounded could be pieced back together relatively quickly, if they weren't dead.

He buried his hands in his hair. Immobility was insanely frustrating.

Then he heard them.

The faint sound of their voices drawing near. Not the banter he was used to. Hushed and serious. Back and forth; light feminine echoes in the castle corridors. He sighed. They were alive and well. It sounded freaking magical. He couldn't move to bound out of the bed toward them like he wanted. Funny thing about near death experiences; makes a body appreciate all they have. Everyone they have. It took all he had for he and Jake not to crush each other earlier. His wound was far too tender and grievous for that.

Finn could see shadows lit by candles dancing along the outside of the door. They slowed to a stop before he could see them.

"Your Majesties." Peppermint Butler approached them from the other end of the hall. Finn couldn't hear what they were saying. He bounced impatiently in his bed, fingers shuffling and scratching at his legs in anticipation. He knew they were fine but he needed to see them. Needed to see they were okay after that last fight. Wanted them to know he was alright too. He wanted long hugs with his nose buried in cold, pale skin; rain, wood, the rocks of the caves. Salty like the waves crashing into them. And warm cotton candy – sticky sweet. Hot cinnamon breath in his ear. He wanted his ladies.

Peppermint was still talking to Bubblegum, but finally, Marceline appeared and crossed the threshold. Her face had been blank when she entered, but upon seeing Finn awake, his expression anxious and ecstatic all at the same time, she beamed.

She lifted off the ground, shooting toward him faster than he could register. Her control remained steady; she stopped in midair before colliding as to not hurt him further, and looped her arms around his neck.

"Don't friggin' scare us like that again F-Bomb or I'll end you myself, hear me?"

"Might be more preferable than this bed."

They stayed embraced for a while after that. Content. Happy the other was safe. Finn adored Marceline. She was as bro as a ladybro could get; he could say or ask anything around her. Even fart. When he'd turned sixteen two years ago, she'd offered him advice on anything he needed. Hinting mostly towards girls. She had claimed that although Jake was his best bud, he was still a dude…and a dog. He'd eyed her suspiciously. She slapped him on the back and promised she wouldn't troll him again like she had when he was twelve and tried to ask Bubbs to the movies.

She'd proven sincere in her offer and was always around to facilitate Finn's pubescent curiosity and sheer confusion. Often confusing him even more, to which she would laugh. At first he was embarrassed about some of the junk that came out of his mouth, but Marceline had a way of making light of what he asked – at the same time, answering him honestly. She consistently coated her answers with the perfect amount of humor to make the situation more comfortable. After a short time, it felt just like talking to Jake. He even bashfully remembered the time they were at her place jamming and he balled up enough to ask her for a feel.

"Can I touch your boobs? Just to see what it's like."

She strummed her bass.

"No."

"Not even for a minute?"

"Nah."

"Aw, ok…"

She sighed. "You can touch one. But not both. I recommend the right."

"For a minute?"

"For five seconds."

"Math."

When they pulled apart from their hug, it was to a steadily rising voice, dripping with distain and anger.

"Wretched and vile creatures…"

More curses.

"…they not know I built this kingdom from the ground up?!"

A thud and a crash. The candle shadows disappeared. Darkness in the hall. A corridor bureau flipped, no doubt. She had a habit of doing that.

Finn and Marceline exchanged amused glances.

When Princess Bubblegum walked in, she was seething from head to toe. Gummy hands balled into shaking fists at her sides, lips pursed and eyes that would shoot lasers if she glared any harder.

Upon seeing Finn though, she softened; tension released from her body. Her blue eyes grew wide and soft again. Sour mouth now parted, lips full.

"Finn!"

She didn't get over quite as fast as Marceline, as land dwellers are wont to do, but she hurried, taking care not to injure him as Marceline did when going in for the hug. She was standing, hands in his tousled blonde locks – mindful about keeping his head above chest level, something Finn always noticed she did. Though it was less a concern for her now that he was taller than her while standing. The crook between her neck and shoulder was free game though and he took advantage with a big, unabashed inhalation.

"I thought we'd lost you for good this time." Sweet whispers in his ear, warm and comforting.

"I don't really know how I didn't croak. What happened anyway? How am I actually still kickin'? Jake didn't see," Finn asked as Bubblegum pulled away from him to sit on the bed.

"Marcy saved you," Bubblegum replied; a shy, thankful smile creeping onto her face as she glanced at Marceline, who shuffled a little uncomfortably. She scratched the back of her head.

"Not as well as I'd like to have. Sorry dude."

Finn grinned and lifted his fist to the vampire. "I'm alive thanks to you, lady. Sorry is most definitely not necessary."

She returned the bump.

"What happened to the guy that split me?"

"I ate him."

"Gnarly."

A fanged grin spread across her face. "And the other five guys that were hovering around you. Got a little… carried away I guess." Her eyes trailed away from Finn to meet with Bubblegum's stoic gaze. They spoke something to one another without words that Finn was lost on. He didn't care.

Turning to the princess, he questioned, "Take it your negotiations didn't go too well?"

Bubblegum closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was wound and stressed and feeling more hopeless as the weeks dredged on. When she opened them again, her gaze was firm and resolute.

"No. They didn't."

Finn crinkled his nose, huffed. The young man was good with his body and a weapon. He's learned to be practical at making decisions, but politics, law and greed he does not comprehend as his older companions do.

"What's gonna happen?"

Bubblegum and Marceline's eyes connected before she addressed Finn's question.

"We have two weeks – both sides – to draw up terms. This meeting was rushed, nearly informal. No one expected anything to get settled. It was a jumping point to see where both sides stood, and to truce the fighting temporarily."

Finn managed to crack a bit of a smile, "Two weeks, that's pretty long, right? That will buy us some time to think of a plan, yeah?"

The princess flashed him a forced smile. He'd always been one to look on the bright side, but things looked grim. Worse than grim. She's not telling him everything and for good reason. No need to excite or panic him in his condition. She's glad he's not asking more.

"Yeah. It's some time," she agreeed. "They didn't want that long at first but I made them aware that each of the kingdoms are a fair distance apart. It will take some time for us to coordinate terms that everyone can agree upon. They've got one main base. They don't have to go far for communication. It will also give us more time to scope them out. I know it goes both ways but they've likely been doing recon on everyone since they got here. I don`t really think it matters."

She looked down with a grimace; mad at herself for not seeing it sooner. For not being able to do anything about it now.

A deep frown settled on Finn's face. Lifting his blanket, he eyed the wound on his left abdomen. Bubblegum took a peek with him to make sure he wasn't bleeding through his bandages.

"Wish I could help," he sulked. "I'm pro ninja at stealth."

He's sad. Genuinely sad at being helpless. Marceline is empathetic. She knows him well enough to know that lying in this bed while his friends fight is near death to him.

"Stealth eh?" she punched his arm lightly, joking. "Didn't you sneak into the Nightosphere with nothing but your jammy jams and a paper plate mask?"

She's awarded with a pearly white, shit eating grin; toothless in some spots. "And it worked!"

"I think it was your political rap that really saved the day."

An un-princess like snort comes out of Bubblegum, replaced immediately with a genuine smile she can't hide. "Wish I was there for that one."

Finn takes that as a cue, mimics the dramatic spinning of turntables with his arms as best as his injured body will allow him and belts out on the fly;

"Them Nightosphere demons didn't have nothin' on me,

I was the baddest little human that they ever did see.

Until a hoard dun came, and cut me down,

Nasty, raiding humans be punkin' our town.

But hear me now, when I'm good to go,

I'll send those jokers packin' to the down below.

I'm out!"

Marceline let out a whistle and a slow clap. Bubblegum was left silent laughing at the end of the bed before composing herself.

"I was wondering how you managed to jack Rap Bear's title," she managed in between catching her breath. "Curiosity sated."

Finn puffed up. He's always proud when he does good; no matter how trivial it is. It's part of the reason they love him.

Bubblegum reached a hand to jostle his knee gently. "And thank you," she told him, sincerely. "I haven't had a good laugh since the cotton candy hit the fan on this whole war business."

"Always at your service, milady."

"I don't doubt that, Finn," she sighed, "but it's getting late and you need your rest."

He pouted. The visit was short. He opened his mouth to argue, but is interrupted.

The pink monarch pointed a regal finger at him, "That's an order, champion."

"He's not the only one that needs sleep," Marceline piped up. She's met with Bubblegum's stern gaze, but no rebuttal.

The princess knew she tended to throw herself into her lab work, experiments and boring royal duties in general when she's stressed. Often missing out on days of sleep, food and sunlight. Signing treaties and writing by-laws - glob, it's like, better than binging on ice cream while doing yoga combined for her.

But this situation is different. This is the entirety of Ooo, and it is at stake. It would do no good to any of the kingdoms or their citizens to have one of their leaders in anything but tip top shape. Peppermint had been consistently on her case about that.

Marceline was tired too, Bubblegum could tell. Her gaze was strong, but she could see the fatigue in the vampire. Her sleep schedule had been all kinds of whack – even gotten hit by sun a few times, not that she can't take a bit of heat, but it's drained her – all of them, really. And respite or not, there's still work to do.

The dark haired girl stood. Bubblegum followed suit. They each bid him goodnight with a hug.

"Y'all gonna come visit tomorrow sometime?" he looked up at them, hopefully. It's lonely in the infirmary. He's the last person that should be there.

Bubblegum frowned. "I have…much to do, Finn, but I'll try."

He's not happy. It showed, but he understands.

"I'll come dude," Marceline said. "I've got shizz to do, and vamps to order around, but I'm friggin' exhausted. Haven't slept in two days; out in the sun all day today. I could use a break while Bonnie does boring correspondence."

Bubblegum didn't argue. For the most lax and carefree monarch she knows, Marceline has been invaluable as an ally in combat, and more importantly, as a friend in personal and emotional support. She wanted nothing more than to have her well rested.

Finn seemed happy with this. "I can dig that. We can chill here for as long as you need. I ain't goin' nowhere."

"Sure thing. Night, Finn."

"Goodnight ladies."

He watched as the two took their leave; Marceline so tired, she walked, instead of floating, alongside the princess. Their footfalls sliding into synchronicity as they walked out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Their walk to Bonnibel's tower is silent. Marceline follows the princess into her chambers and closes the door. Wordlessly, they begin shuffling off layers of clothing. Marceline shrugs off the black, metal armour Bubblegum insisted she start wearing. Marceline can heal, but wounds still hurt and the sun is still deadly. Bonnibel herself begins unlacing the corset of her too fancy, overblown gown. It's a stuffy thing; pointless. Not functional at all, too razzle dazzle. She wore it to the meeting for appearances only. She's never really liked any of the overly pompous gowns she has. Parties, balls, functions – they all require her to dress up, and she enjoys it, but she wears nice, flowy dresses, sometimes tight ones, sometimes other things. Never the ones that drop all the way to the floor in a heaping pile of thick fabric. Never the layers upon layers. Never the extra, twenty pound bulk. It's too much.

She fusses with the lace, reaching awkwardly behind her back in attempt to pull the corset string loose. It's not working. An over-reactive grumble escapes her and it looks like she's almost about to flip something again. Taking a deep breath, her lungs expel an exasperated sigh.

"Ugh!" Her hands drop to her sides, head whipping around, away from her mirror to Marceline. She's so frustrated with everything going on right now, tears start to swell in the corners of her eyes. "Can you, do this?"

Marceline lets out a small chuckle, just one quick exhalation before she's frowning again. She pretends not to see the tears and walks over. Behind Bonnibel, she looks into the mirror she's positioned in front of. Marceline can't see herself and Bonnibel can't see her staring into her eyes. A slim, pale finger hooks under the strings and tugs it loose. She follows the crisscrossing rows down, pulling, unraveling.

"What are we going to do?" Marceline finally asks, breaking the silence.

She's still staring at Bubblegum through the mirror. The princess's eyes are far away.

"I don't really know. I'm sure we can negotiate some things and most of the kingdoms will come out alright, but as for their chief demand of the Candy Kingdom specifically, I don't know if –"

"They can't have you. You can't let them do that."

"I might not have a choice. If it will keep my citizens safe, if it will prevent war, I –"

Marceline tugs extra hard on the last bit of string.

"Fuck that."

Bubblegum rarely hears the old curses come out of the vampire's mouth anymore. A long time ago they used to slip out on the regular, but not so much these days. Though with the way things have been going, she suspects a comeback might be about to take place. Only when Marceline is at a loss for words emotionally do they tend to surface; when nothing else quite captures her feelings and there's no bass to echo a melody.

Bonnibel drops her gaze to her feet, shuffles them. "It's me or everyone else. Probably. It's my duty to keep them safe. I can't just be selfish."

She's surprised when strong hands clasp her shoulders, spinning her around. Face to face with a crimson gaze – it's startling. Marceline is fuming.

"You have done everything for these useless candy balls – "

"They're not useless."

"Yes, they are. They can't tell their hands from their feet, their ice cream from their cones, the cake from their frosting – Bonnie, you made them. You did everything. They wouldn't be here in the first place if it wasn't for you. And I'm sorry, but they're not the brightest things Ooo has ever seen. You're like their mother, their babysitter, if anything."

Bonnibel breaks eye contact. Averts her gaze. She knows what Marceline is saying about her citizens is mostly true, and that's why she has to protect them. Her citizens, in a way, are also like her children. She can't just go to war if she can avoid it.

"Look at me." It's not a question. Marceline grips her chin, tugs it back so they're face to face again. It's uncharacteristic of her to be so forward.

"You don't owe them. They owe you. If they don't care that their leader is willing to sacrifice herself for their sakes, then they don't deserve to be saved. You know what they'll do to you…" Marceline's voice shakes at the last bit. It gets a little higher, a little panicked.

"You know what they'll do right?"

Bubblegum doesn't answer.

Marceline shakes her a bit. "Right?"

Along with various other demands of each of the kingdoms, one of the human's main terms regarding the Candy Kingdom is their lone princess. They want Bubblegum. All of her. They've become privy to her age and want her near immortal secret. She's already told them she can't replicate herself or humans in her lab, nor can she make any of the current living humans ageless. They don't fully believe her. They know she's smart. They want her to continue to experiment, but for them. Regardless if she can whip something up, they want to give their children a chance with her genes; to breed her with their leader and the rest of the higher ups. Pass her around like a hot potato. The leader wants to keep her though. He wants a queen and a kingdom to inherit. She thinks if she's lucky, if she gives herself up, she can negotiate how much power she will have over her own kingdom, what will happen to her citizens, keep relations and trade with the other kingdoms. The humans would still reap the benefits.

"I know…" she says softly.

"We can't let them. You can't let them and I sure won't."

Bubblegum brushes Marceline away and slumps down in her chair. She's defeated, tired. Of course she's been trying to find a way around this all day, but the pink princess is a logical and practical lady. Her friend is right and her own 'army', can't tell their heads from their asses. They will be obliterated. Sacrifice one or sacrifice all. Those were her options. She didn't like them, but that's what they were. The sooner she accepted it, the sooner this would be over.

"That's sweet of you," Bonnibel mumbles. Her head is resting on a closed palm, elbow on the desk, slumped in the chair – proper posture gone with the wind. No one sees her like this but Marceline and Peppermint, and occasionally, Finn.

"It's nice that you want to stick up for me," she finishes, looking up to Marceline with a weak smile.

The vampire is still standing where Bonnibel left her; shoulders slumped, heartbroken expression on her face. She's never seen her old friend look like this before. Her youthful face is devastation; sadness and anger balled into one. She carries the same defeat as the princess herself.

"Someone has to, especially if you won't stick up for yourself."

"Right now, Marceline, I just don't see a way around it. We have two weeks though. I don't want to talk about it anymore right now."

There's a finality to her words. Marceline sighs. There will be time to talk later and they're both exhausted.

Marceline's cold hands find the hem of her thin tunic and lift it over her head. She's left in her pants and an undershirt of sorts. She leaves her armour and other articles on Bubblegum's desk and heads toward her washroom. The castle has been pretty full these days. Ambassadors and dignitaries from the other kingdoms, nobles from her own and various others have taken up camp in the candy castle. Marceline has situated herself there as well. It's been more convenient. She claimed she didn't need much, and opted to a tiny room without an adjoining bathroom. Bonnibel had put up somewhat of an argument. She wanted everyone to be comfortable. Marceline insisted she was fine. The dignitaries could have what they wanted.

"It's whatever," she had said. "I'll just treat myself to the royalist of royal showers. You don't mind, eh Bon? I mean so long as you're cool with clogged drains – I have lots of hair you know – and I can't promise I won't steal your loofa. Also, I don't wash my own towels. An hour isn't too long for me to take up the bathroom, right?"

Bonnibel had rolled her eyes, but Marceline's special mixture of annoyance and humor was all but welcome given the current state of things.

"Yes, Marceline. You can use my shower," she had agreed with a shake of her head.

"Cool."

With the door closed over, not quite shut tight, Bonnibel hears the shower spring to life. Standing, she shrugs off her now loosened gown, letting it fall haphazardly to the floor, leaving her in her shift.

She knows she should fall into her oversized bed immediately, but Marceline still being in the other room is an excuse to sit down at her desk and begin drawing up plans for tomorrow.

With her glasses perched loosely on her face and her desk lamp the only source of light, she loses herself in legal documents, barely registering when Peppermint knocks and enters the room.

"Brought you some tea, majesty," he says, padding over to the table. He has to reach up on his tippy toes to set her mug and a glass of red liquid on the elevated desk.

Bubblegum manages to tear her gaze from her papers. "Thanks Pep."

"I suggest you get some sleep as soon as you're finished, otherwise I've got no deal coming back in here and crushing the lightbulb out of the lamp socket, with all due respect."

He's right. She smiles warmly at her loyal butler. "I will. I promise. Here," Bonnibel reaches for Marceline's belongings. She grabs the armour and hands it to Peppermint. She notices the tunic on the stool to her opposite side and on instinct, leaves it. The little striped man doesn't notice as the armour is overflowing in his little arms.

"Can you take that down to Marcy's room or should I have someone else?"

He wobbles for a minute, then balances. "I got this, I got this," he assures her.

He looks pretty dang cute, though he's struggling and Bubblegum can't help but smile warmly. "Thanks,"

"It's what I'm here for," he says, taking an unsteady leave. "And get some sleep!"

"I will!" She calls back as his little foot hooks around the door and flings it shut.

Bubblegum is granted five more minutes of work before she hears the shower turn off and Marceline emerges from the bathroom toweling her hair off. She's tossed her undershirt and loose pants back on, not bothering to do them up. She'll change into something fresh when she gets down to her room. Contrary to her teasing before bunking in the castle, she only takes twenty minutes in the bathroom and Bubblegum has never found any hairs left in her drain.

"Pep left you something to drink," she says, motioning to the glass left untouched on the desk.

The vampire flairs her nostrils and walks over. Bonnibel watches as she lifts the glass to her lips and takes some of the colour. Her face crinkles a bit. Bubblegum frowns.

"Not quite the same I take it?"

Marceline's eyes dart back and forth, anywhere but to the blue ones that are on her. She shrugs.

"Been eating red for a thousand years, I can handle it for a thousand or so more. It is what it is."

Bonnibel nods and Marceline is silent as she drains the rest of the red from the liquid. When they were attacked in the night without warning, she had her first taste of human blood. The affect it had on her during and the following moments directly afterward were shocking, to say the least, and not only for her. She was embarrassed and ashamed at her violent loss of control. It was a good thing she had snapped back to reality when she did. They don't talk about it.

Marceline sets the glass down and Bubblegum notices her glancing about the table.

"Your slave take my stuff for me?"

"Yes,"

"Cool," she shifts her weight. "Well, I'm heading to bed. …You should too. Seriously, Bon."

The princess nods. "I am. Really, I'm tired."

Marceline sighs. "Good," she turns toward the door. "Well, night, Bonnie. Wake me up earlier if you need me but I can't take too many daylight hours tomorrow. I'll be up mid afternoon, kay?"

The look the vampire is given is a little defeated, mostly tired, but Bubblegum manages her steadfast, trademark smile.

"Goodnight, Marcy."

When the other girl departs and closes the door, Bonnibel rubs her temples and removes her glasses. She rises from her seat, stiff with exhaustion and slumps toward the bathroom. She lazily brushes her teeth and washes her face. A shower can wait until morning. The light is flicked off and she's back at her desk. Before she extinguishes the lamp there, Bonnibel removes her shift and tosses it to the floor. Reaching down, she grasps the forgotten tunic and pulls it over her head before plunging her room into darkness and collapsing into bed. Sleep takes her instantly.


	3. Chapter 3

Its four in the afternoon when Marceline's phone begins buzzing, telling her to roll her butt out of bed. The snooze goes off four times before she actually manages the task. With a good stretch and crack of her back, she yawns, feeling much better after being unconscious for a solid nine hours.

The fresh feeling disappears almost instantly when she remembers where she is and why she's there. Probably the worst scenario in which to have a good old fashioned sleepover in the candy castle. Bubblegum hadn't sent for her, so she must be busy and not need anything from her at the moment. Marceline was planning to head around to all the places in the area where she knew the other vampires resided. Of course she had to wait until sundown when they were awake. There's not much she can do at the moment to help. That's the worst part. She thinks that must be how Finn is feeling.

Oh, right, she said she would visit.

A pair of jeans and a hoodie are selected from the closet where she's stored a decent amount of her clothes for the duration of her stay. Sun is still out and the castle has windows. Marceline flips up the oversized hood and floats out of her room towards the infirmary, keeping to the shadows along the corridor as she goes.

When she reaches the entranceway, she puts on a bit of a smile.

"Hey, dude."

Finn looks up from the magazine he's reading – or looking at. Marceline has never known him to be a great reader.

"Marcy, hey! I was wondering if you'd show up."

The vampire pulls her feet off the ground, lifting to the air and reclining back. "Course I did. Said I would, didn't I? How's the ol' gut?"

Finn glances down to his bandaged torso. "Been better, but, can't complain; a hero does what is necessary."

He makes a fist to prove his point. It looks painful for him to do so. Marceline can't fault him for that, but he should know better that he doesn't need to impress her with unnecessary gestures.

"How goes the plans?" he asks, hopefully. They both know he knows nothing or terms and treaties and negotiations. Bubblegum's strict orders until she's figured something out.

"Oh, you know," Marceline says, as nonchalant as she can, arms coming to rest behind her head. "Bubs is figuring stuff out, no worries."

She can tell he's fishing for information, and she doesn't want to be the one to divulge. But, hey, reiterating what he already knows will reassure the kid of his importance.

"I'm heading to the caves to rally my vamps tonight, so it's all good. The kingdom is in pretty decent shape; not too much damage. Sucks the fields and the treehouse got torched though. Man, me and Bonnie built that thing up pretty good – glad it was you and Jake who found it. Did my old fort justice."

She's in a pleasant state of reminiscence when she watches the blood drain from his face.

"The treehouse is _what?_"

She almost drops to the ground.

_'__Whoops. Damnit, Jake.' _As _if _he failed to mention _that._

Finn's head stoops so low its almost inhis pants. "Gone? Really?" His blonde head creaks to the side, staring hopefully upon her, but Marceline is aware that he knows what's up. He's just searching for that hopefulness that comes with youth – with humans. She lost that a long ass time ago. Finn is learning. His expression though, the way he asked; there's a deep twist of knowing seeping through his question. It's not like the innocence she was first met with upon their initial encounters. He surprises her and it's pleasant. It's nice when someone does the opposite of disappoint, like you assume they will; like she's accustomed to. Everyone who stays disappoints eventually. It doesn't always mean letting them go, but they still do it, regardless. She likes him more for this. There's a huff of acceptance in his question.

"Sorry," she mumbles. It's not her fault, they both know, but for whatever reason she still feels she owes him that. She doesn't, but someone ought to say it to him. It was Finn's home, after all. Glob knows the humans won't be writing a formal apology.

He looks away, fiddling with the thin, dull blankets in his hands. Blue like his eyes, and stitched straight and plain like his countenance. Marceline watches the acceptance settle in. Knowing it won't be today that a full realization sinks and settles into his bones, but whatever he needs, she will facilitate. She knows full well what it's like to have home ripped away from you, or leave on its own.

A shift in energy leaves her settling lower toward the bed. Marceline is about to say something to break the silence, but Finn beats her to it.

"You and PB…were roommates?"

The question is incredulous, and peppered with humour. She can tell he is both changing the subject and genuinely curious. There is no blame there. Marceline has no idea what Bonnie has gone babbling about to him regarding their history. Judging by Finn's anticipation of the question, it seems like it's been nothing particularly juicy or informative. She's not surprised. Bonnibel isn't one to blabber. There's a strange sense of pride there, knowing that Finn is considered a close friend and comrade, yet even he is not privy to the inner workings of their monarch's brain and history. Or maybe Bubblegum simply does not care enough to warrant their history. The self-depreciating side of Marceline tells herself that's probably the case, yet, there is some part of her that feels confident – almost invincible, even god-like, circulating within and fueling the dark demon her body is encased of, that smirks at that, knowing it certainly is anything but true.

Bonnibel is a princess. She keeps her casing sharp like a diamond; impenetrable save to anything but a demon's tooth. Finn is oblivious to her. Ooo even more so. But Marceline is not. And that has always been her favourite part.

"Yeah man, for a while," she answers, not really there, drifting off into memory.

"Dude, like, when exactly was this?"

Finn's voice breaks Marceline out of her reverie.

She's not one hundred percent sure how to answer that. Things were…complicated.

"Uh, like in the treehouse, or in general?"

His eyes go wide. He's taking in new information that will take a good few moments to process. It's clear he doesn't know how to proceed with his inquiries. Marceline won't bait. Neither she nor Bubblegum has ever divulged the information, so Finn is at least smart enough to know he won't get anything he does not ask for. Kind of comes with the territory when dealing with folks of old, Marceline has realized. She just simply does not care enough to share with someone or something so finite. And being a thousand, her memories feel like they stretch for an eternity. Where does one even begin? What's the point?

She watches his facial expression shift; there's formation, confusion, concentration. Attempts to word sentences properly; adjust, formulate proper thought patterns, while at the same time, being appropriate. Finn doesn't want to overstep his bounds. It's kind of cute. He finally gets something together.

"How long have you two actually known each other?"

Ah, there's at least something. A decent question. It's strange; Marceline never wants to tell, but there are times when she wants nothing to do but answer.

Her weightless posture amongst the hollow air is solid and sturdy, yet she's never divulged this information before. She wonders if Finn can see the vibrations amongst her body. She is shaking. Memories are memories; she can replay and dissect them in the confines of her head, but none of this has even been said aloud. She'll calm down if, and once, she starts blabbering, she's almost sure. Almost.

"Ehh, since before I became Queen. After I was turned vamp though," she shrugs, nonchalantly.

His head does this weird, shaky thing. "Wait, you weren't always a vampire?"

She wants to both slap him upside his bullgunked head for being such a ding dong and thank him for the shift in subject. Marceline isn't sure which issue is more painful; Bonnie or the night she died, but with the uplifting feels in her gut, she assumes this is the right course. This garbage is hard too, but damn, some things might feel real good to let out. No one ever asks. Finn is asking.

"No, dingus, I wasn't always a vampire." Marceline swipes slowly at his head on purpose, letting him duck under her lazy hand.

"Thought I told you that when I told you about Simon…" That had been hard enough. "Vampires can't age, and I used to be young, but I've always been part demon, through and through, I mean, I guess I have…" Maybe she didn't mention it outright. Thought he assumed. He's never been the brightest at deductions.

Finn gives her a glance. No, it's not a glance, it's a cocky glare. He's only recently just established such a look. Marceline has far surpassed her initial scare phases with him, but damn if she doesn't have some tricks up her sleeve. Regardless, Finn has placed himself in a small circle of respect in Marceline's eyes and such tomfoolery and parlour tricks are above him, whether she wants them to be or not. She can shift and slither, crush and strangle him to death if she wanted, but they both know she won't do that. And, hey, it's kind of nice knowing that someone just wants to rap. Yet, she doesn't quite know what he wants.

"Dude," she sighs, "You're all over the place. What do you want to hear?"

Finn's mouth opens; gapes like a silly fish. He doesn't even know. Now that she's asking him, - really asking him, and apparently open to the idea of enlightening him, he has to really consider it. Come to think of it – he's never really given it much thought. Well, obviously Marcy is old, but Finn has never really considered what that might mean, until now. It's always been kinda rude to just up and jump all up on questions about peep's bizz, but here they are. He doesn't know where to start. Maybe that's what he should do; just start. After all, now that he's thinking about it, Finn genuinely is curious. Two of his straight up BFF's are like, mega ancient. His mind is reeling.

"I dunno. Well…Marcy, where'd you come from? Hook me up with the intro, everyone's got one. I mean, if you're cool with that…"

She's comfy, sittin' all cozy in the air, and she supposes Finn's question is the least most specific he could ask, plus she knows the answer, so that's good. No one else knows, except Bonnie, but it was a slew of quick facts and rushed words. Nothing special.

Marceline gazes at Finn upon his bed; glued to it like a caterpillar in its cocoon. He's mortal, he must heal, shift, change, all before he dies, otherwise who knows what will happen to him. She has eternity. She likes him, even if he is stupid. She can at least give him this.


	4. Chapter 4

**Whoa, have a nice long chapter. Didn't feel like breaking it up :)**

Hunson Abadeer is bored. He's been bored for multiple millenniums, actually. He wasn't always though. It was pretty fun at first; ruling the plane that sits between life and the void for the restless, tainted souls. The bad ones. His will amongst his realm is absolute – anything he says, or thinks, goes. Not a bad setup. And oh, humans were so much fun in the beginning. They're hilarious. They show up after they die all confused and junk, screaming things like, _"Why am I here!?"_ or, _"What did I do to deserve this?"_

They ask him, beg him to tell them when they can leave, if he'll let them go. Hunson tells them they'll remain for eternity. And they do. They remain solely because they believe him. That's the best part – the funniest part. Any soul stuck within the Night and transformed demon can leave whenever they want and have their peace until they're reborn and materialized again, that's the beauty of it.

His home is a place of learning, that's what Hunson likes to think of it as. Just because they die, doesn't mean they're done learning life lessons. One enters the Night because they're not ready to move on. They haven't learned enough about themselves yet – their true selves. They're latching and hanging on. They put themselves there.

He's bored of his teaching job though. Too long in one spot will leave a body to grow sour and hateful. That's part of the irony. Anyone else can leave, he cannot. Hunson's entire existence is thanks to the humans. In their constant need to have things explained, they dreamt him up. He was nothing but a figment, an idea, one so powerful and collective of the human whole that it grew to be regarded as truth. And truth he became. Now he is here, thanks to them. Stupid things. There are some days when he wonders if there will come a time where he might be forgotten enough to disappear into the void the demons in his lair beg him so mercilessly for. He doesn't think it will come. There are enough demons in that place to cover the earth ten-fold. Even if all the humans die out, most of them will show up here, and in being here, they will perpetuate his existence. He's not even allowed to help them – give them hints to getting out; saving them and thus potentially cutting off the source of his entire being because _they_ made him that way! One big, dumb cycle. He's so over it. He's even over crossing over into the material plane. It would happen randomly. That was something he didn't control. That was fun for the first few millenniums and he used to love scaring the shit out of everybody. Sometimes the other demons can still make it across. They're usually the freshly pissed off ones; jealous of the living. Their envy so great that they know to do nothing but terrorize. People hate the thought of demons but it happens sometimes on purpose; like with great cults, or incantations. Sometimes it's by accident if fear of the monster under the bed is great enough – either way, it's usually a human's fault. Sometimes it's a demon's doing though. The want and need to be back alive becomes so great that a demonic soul will split through the rift and take over a body that does not belong to them. That doesn't usually last though. It's not the same.

Hunson always laughs at that. The demons are so dumb that they don't even realize that the will they've applied to forcing themselves back into a human body is one and the same as the will that will get them the plop out of the Night in the first place. Some are able to do it; touch the realization that they are the master of their own souls and not him. But most never learn.

Its dumb shit like that that makes him so listless and bored in the first place.

It was sheer luck that one night as he was being particularly reflective and moody that the wall of his kitchen split open.

He wasn't intending on answering it. He hasn't for years now. Could have closed it or chuckled and sent someone else through. Some demon who'd kill for the chance to be sent through to the material plane. But, after his contemplations, he's feeling rather romantic about the whole situation. He's ancient enough to know when something seems coincidental, or out of place, there's usually a reason for it. He steps through the portal.

It's always a surprise walking into the human world. Hunson never knows who or what will be there to greet him. This time, it's certainly interesting, to say the least.

"Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. Amber, shit. What the fuck is that? What did we _do_?"

"Shut _up_, Tiffany! It worked!"

Hunson adjusts to the new surroundings. The light from the portal is blinding in the dark room. The mesh between the elements of each of the planes does not work well together for the senses – he can't see well. He closes it. While he has to wait to be summoned here, he belongs to the Night. He can always get back.

The two young women, Amber and Tiffany, if he heard correctly, are directly in front of him. One of them is cowering in a corner. His blood red gaze meets her horrified eyes. He can see into her soul. Before she can blink, she is rushing out of the room as fast as she can.

"Tiffany! Wait! Ugh!"

The one remaining, Amber, is sitting against the wall. Hunson figures she can't be much older than twenty. Her dark hair is pulled back from her face, pale skin contrasting heavily with her black ensemble. Dark lacquered nails painted midnight upon small hands clasp a large book close to her heaving breast. The book likely being the source of information that convinced her she could bring him here. Not like the book or the rituals actually matter. They're just tools, and he's never seen the exact same technique twice. He stares into her eyes. She is nervous, but not afraid. Oh, he knows where this is going. Well, maybe. It`s usually either one of two things. Certainly not the first time he's stumbled upon this little scenario. Most of the time it happens in some wooded area or large basement with a fair amount of people. This is pretty cozy.

He glances about the miniscule bedroom. A small dresser stands on one end next to the tiny closet with cheap jewellery and make up sprawled amongst its surface. Double bed unmade and pressed against the only wall available, taking up most of the space. Most of the white walls have been covered with tacky posters. Looking down, Hunson notices the salt. He takes a step forward to test it, watching Amber tense upon seeing his attempt to approach.

He can`t though. The salt is doing its job. Rather, Amber is doing its job. He`s rather impressed. This isn`t the first time he`s been trapped in a salt circle, though more often than not, they don`t work. Many times, once he`s actually pulled through, whoever is there on the other side, in their fear, begins to second guess themselves; to doubt. _What if the salt doesn`t work? _And they lose themselves. _Oh my God, it's not going to work._ They picture in their minds eye, him stepping through without effort._ There's no way salt can stop a demon! What was I thinking – fucking salt!? _And then he does.

This circle holds steady. So, Hunson is left to gaze upon the woman who summoned him. She hasn't said anything, not that he can blame her. So, he goes first.

"You rang?"

He watches Amber's eyes expand like great saucers when his deep voice reaches her ears, smooth vibrations entering and shaking up her insides.

Finding her confidence, she gets to her knees and places her book to the side.

"Y-yes! Oh, dark master, harbinger of souls and lord of the dead!"

A smirk threatens to crack on his cold, stony visage.

Amber throws herself down in an exaggerated bow and continues.

"I pledge myself to you, great one, body and soul. To honour and serve you upon the earthly realm. All I desire is you, take me, please."

Hunson cocks his head.

"Sorry, that was all a little convoluted. You want me to kill you and take your soul into Hell orrrr….."

Lifting herself back up, Amber shakes her head. "No, no! Don't kill me! I mean - ! If it is your will, then I can't like, stop you and stuff. But, no, I mean like, _take me_," she says, suggestively. "Know what I mean?"

Hunson huffs. It is as he had assumed before. One of two scenarios. One usually involves a sacrifice in his honour – to get something. Sometimes it's even another human, which always leaves him thinking, like whaaat? He doesn't get it. The other is usually sex. Humans are obsessed with it, and they made him that way as well. Though he's gotten more than his fair share in his lifetime, it's pretty whatever now. But, it has been a while. Not to mention this girl is brightening the fuck out of his day – even if it is pure, sheepish amusement.

She`s waiting for him to respond. Smart enough not to push him.

Finally, he decides, what the heck, why not? Not like he doesn't have the time, or business to attend to that can't wait until later. Though he has been getting an overflow of traffic lately, and part of him is wondering what's up. That can be dealt with later though.

He moves toward the salt, impeccably shiny dress shoes coming as close to the grains as is permitted.

"Break the circle," he demands.

Amber is hesitant then. She feels safe with him in there. The second that barrier is broken, she loses all control.

"Break it," Hunson says again. "And I'll give you what you want."

"What's the catch though?"

"Catch?"

"Yeah, you know, there's always a catch."

"I leave you high and dry and won't return any more of your little house calls. Sorry, I'm just not that kind of guy. Now break the circle and get on the bed, or I'm leaving. I could be eating dinner right now."

Amber stands, breathes in deep, while not taking her eyes off Hunson. She slowly inches toward him. Watching, as the dim light of the candles bounces shadows off his porcelain face. They made him to look like them too. Though he's both a version perfected and distorted at the same time; eerie and hypnotic. Horrifying yet endearing. She looks up along his tall frame, eyes still glued. With a single swipe of her bare foot, the salt is whisked away. It makes no difference physically – each grain sits a distance apart from one another. Whether it be the slightly more compacted and contained distance that gave the illusion of the circle, or the slightly more spread out gaps from corner to corner of the room that they hold now. The only thing that matters is that with a single intention, Amber broke the barrier.

It happens just like the last time.

Hunson is sitting in his kitchen, about to devour a massive sandwich that is just stacked to perfection with meat and veggies. There's no need for him to eat, but he loves to indulge. Said indulgence must be a reflection of the humans, he figures. And boy, do they love their food.

It's unfortunate that he never takes the first bite. The wall has split again, the glow of a familiar light seeping through the cracks.

He grumbles. He can only recall a small handful of times when he's been successfully summoned this quickly in succession. It's only been, what? Two months? Maybe three?

He doesn't want to go, but again, intuition is holding steadfast in his gut. Something's up and he wants to know. He can always leave. Taking one last, longing look at his sandwich, he disappears out of the Night.

"You again."

"Ugh, thank God you came," Amber breathes a sigh of relief, then catches herself. "I mean – no, thank _you_, not Him, I mean… Fuck, you know what I mean."

Hunson pinches the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, yeah. I know what you meant. Now, what is it? I told you, you only get one booty call. This isn't gonna be some –"

"I'm pregnant."

"What?"

Amber is fidgeting in her place on her bed, eyes darting around.

"Pregnant. I know it's yours. It has to be. I haven't been with anyone in ages since you. I broke up with my ex boyfriend ten months ago. He cheated on me with this girl I know named Jenny, who, is actually a huge slut, and-"

Upon meeting Hunson's stare, Amber realizes she's rambling. She ceases.

"Sorry, you don't care about that."

"No, I don't."

Amber can't tell, but Hunson's brain is running a mile a minute. This is hardly the first time he's ever knocked up a human. Though he cannot just do so on command. His will in the Night and in the material plane works very differently. He is not master here, but has to let things work themselves out naturally. A child would be more than beneficial to him. A child, to humans, is part of the natural order. Though he rules the Night with absoluteness, he did not create it. That means there are rules in place that he must follow. They are the few things that do not bend or break upon his whim. Helping to guide souls out of his realm is one. Ruling for eternity is another, unless, replaced by means of the old human archaic rule of monarchy. Having an heir would mean he could retire. Drift off into peaceful nothingness after years of servitude.

That has been a fantasy Hunson has long let go. Oh yes, he has impregnated human women countless times before, but that makes no difference if they refuse to have the child, or kill the demon babe outright the second it escapes the womb. No one has ever wanted the spawn of Satan as their legacy. What would the neighbours think?

"What did you need me here for? Don't you people have those fancy clinics now a days for pest control like this?"

It's clear the last bit of the comment fell on deaf ears as soon as Amber reaches out to gasp his hands. "I just need you to tell me if there's going to be any weird shit happening to me, or like, if I need to eat anything different. Cause I watched this movie, and the girl got knocked up by a vampire and totally had to drink nothing but blood while she was preggers. Do I have to do anything like that? It's not going to chew its way out of my body or anything is it?"

There are very few things that can take Hunson Abadeer by surprise anymore. Once you've lived a few thousand years, you've mostly seen it all, though in the past little while the humans have gotten quite inventive. Still, this takes the cake. It takes every ounce of self-control for him to not begin dancing on the spot. Be cool.

"Wait, let me get this straight…and just so we're clear; you're keeping my demon child?"

Amber looks at him like his head is screwed on backwards.

"Um, _obviously_. I told you, I like, worship you. I talk to you every day in demonic prayer, and hello, I said you own my body and soul, remember? Of _course_ I'm going to have your baby. It will literally be the best thing _ever_."

Hunson returns to the Night later that day with more pep in his step than he can ever remember possessing. He doesn't even torture anyone for the next five days he's so happy.

When Marceline is born six months later, the moment he sees her is the first true instant when he realizes that freedom is actually within his reach. Genuine happiness is not something Hunson is used to feeling, or ever able to find within himself, but when he looks at her, it's really there. She's not full demon nor is she full human, but she'll pass for one for the time being, barely. She has the same ephemeral quality as Hunson; that look that leaves one unsure if they're frightened or intoxicated. The human in her mellows it out considerably. Unlike any human though, she's actually born with teeth, just four. The elongated canines on both the upper and lower jaws. Hunson assumes whatever else grows in will be akin to the flat, square teeth of her mother. The black hair was a given, as it is a shared trait of both he and Amber, same goes for the hauntingly pale skin. Hunson chuckles at her pointed ears. Those are a nice touch that Amber will have a tough time explaining next to her sharp little chompers. The only thing that is a distinct reflection of Amber, save for the alterations of a few facial features, are Marceline's eyes. They are a brilliant shade of blue. And though Hunson himself has the blood red irises of a demon, he likes Marceline's just the way they are.

Hunson has decided there's no way he is about to steal away the tiny thing and raise a baby in his realm. He is far too lazy for that, and it's no place for a thing that can barely move. He gladly passes that task onto Amber, which is what she wanted in the first place. But, he has to be careful. He needs this kid in tip top shape physically and mentally, as soon as possible, to take over the ol' business the second _he_ says so. He has to drive the want and need for Marceline to succeed him into her as young as possible, really make it stick. Raising her up nice and evil won't be an issue. Amber is batshit crazy for a human and is way into it. She'll be doing whatever Hunson says.

The first few years fly by like a breeze with everything going without a hitch. Amber is sometimes a pain in the ass to deal with and arguments have definitely arose. Like letting Marceline share toys with the neighbour kid. Share? In the Night? Absolutely not. She's also way too affectionate for his liking. He's not sure if it's because he needs her to be tough as nails, or he's just uncomfortable with himself for readily returning the hugs she bombards him with whenever he's summoned on weekends.

Regardless, everything goes to shit one day when Marceline is four. Hunson had more than enough bad feelings when souls started pouring in by the buttload, but he'll never forget the day when whatever happened on the surface of the material plane caused the sudden overflow. The energy of it all was overwhelming. Suddenly the Night was stuffy and crammed. Loud, fierce, congested. Millions upon millions of souls and demons filling up his digs. With everyone down here, it left him wondering, sick to his stomach, who was even left.

Hunson closes his eyes, shifts back and into himself, and changing forms. He sets to floating high above his realm. With eyes still shut, his entire essence stretches out, covering all of the Night. And that's when he senses her. Her energy is like the other billions of mindless blobs billowing about, but there's no mistaking that it is indeed Amber. She is dead, and she's dragged any hope Hunson has ever known into the depths with her. Marceline could be left stuck with whoever claims custody of orphaned children, but Hunson suspects that whatever happened on Earth didn't leave much behind, judging by what just came knocking at his front door. Being a demon, he knows Marceline can stand a lot more than the humans ever could. And she is not down here. He normally doesn't get children here. But the demon in her would tie her to this realm. She is likely wandering up there alone, with no one to summon Hunson to come retrieve her. His dreams of freedom shrivel up and wilt on the spot.

Finn is propped in his hospital bed. It's a little awkward, but Marceline notices to droop in his pouty mouth. If anything, Finn has always been pretty rad at being empathetic; it's part of what drives his need to be a hero. Also kinda why she's taking a liking to him. She brings it upon herself to break the silence.

"I mean, that's how Dad kinda told it anyway. He's probably exaggerating some o' that jazz. I have no idea."

There's more confusion speckling his features than anything; attempting to connect the dots.

"Geez Marceline. I…didn't know. But, how did you figure out how to summon him without your mom? You taught me how to open the portal to the Nightosphere, how'd you figure that out?"

That wasn't one of her best days either.

"I had this photo of my mom and me," she says, casually. She's hoping Finn doesn't hear the tremors. This is easier to spill than she ever thought it would be, but after so long, a first is still a first.

"I think there was a build up before the peak of the mushroom wars and she gave it to me for that reason; told me to keep it with me always. The incantation was on the back. She didn't really explain what it was. It wasn't until I was about fifteen when I ever really had the means to execute it properly. I had tried before, wondering what it was, but was, uh, lacking a few things. Namely, the milk."

It's been a long time since Marceline has really tried to make anything from the old days work. It's been roughly eleven years since she's had french fries, and today, she's feeling particularly headstrong. Life has left her with jack, and she doesn't know what's fuelled this particular need, but right now, she's not having any of it. Marceline wants this, and she's going for it. It's stupid and it's pointless, but she doesn't care. She needs this and doesn't care why. The fryer is a machine, and really, aside from some dust, it's been fairly well preserved. Not much rust; the casing of dirty grease and oil has seen to that. She's ecstatic when it kicks in.

The restaurant has been preserved fantastically. She has no clue what sort of crap was put in those french fries to keep them relatively edible this long, but she assumes it's some seriously nasty bizz. She doesn't care though. One serving won't hurt, and it's likely to taste damn good.

When the fries are done, she sets them on one of the dust ridden tables in the dining area. Something's missing though. She needs a drink. After checking the soda fridge, she comes to the conclusion that a bunch of smart folks had pilfered all that was worth jacking – which means all the soda was gone. The cartons of rotten, spoiled milk catch her eye though. She doesn't want to drink them, that's for sure, but there is the one thing she keeps with her that sits in the back of her head that makes her thing that maybe, just maybe, there might be some use to that mouldy, chunky beverage.

She removes the old photo from her pocket and flips it over. She's tried this dozens of times on her own, after Simon left, when it really kicked in what these words might mean.

There's a chalkboard across the counter that's still advertising "Today's Special". She wipes it clean and replicates the drawing on the back of her photo. It's weird, so weird; the urge she has. Feels though, like she's seen it before. The milk is tossed carelessly on the chalkboard. Not pressed and rubbed. She needs the drawing preserved. Doesn't know why, but that's what she needs. She's never had the milk. The last thing, is scrawled upon the back of the photo. Marceline has always wondered if she's saying it wrong. She tries anyway.

"Maloso vobiscum et cum spiritum."

Nothing happens. She doubted it would. After all these times, why would it? Stupid.

She leaves her fries on the table and heads next door to the convenience store to find something to drink.

While she's there, something keeps nagging in her brain.

_What if something happened while you were gone? What if you didn't wait long enough?_

Something feels different this time. Something in her wants to fight that doubt. And then it clicks.

_Something happened._

Hunson is way confused when a portal appears. Last he checked most of the remaining human spirits were all up in _his_ domain. So, naturally, he's more than curious. When he finally enters the material plane, he's more than surprised to meet absolutely nothing.

Who the hell brought him here?

All curiosity flies out the window when he gets a whiff of what's sitting in front of him though. Someone had been here. And not too long ago.

The fries are somewhat chilled but, damn, it doesn't matter. They're still worth it. He figures whoever made them probably got devoured by something or was long gone. Which is why when, upon stuffing his face, he's frozen stiff at the small, faint voice echoing from the doorway.

"Daddy?"

It's strange how after all these years, she remembers him. The flood of feelings and familiarity upon seeing him again resurfaces. But, along with that familiarity, is the hard betrayal. He was gone. He disappeared just like her mother, only he hadn't died. He just…left. Left like he always did. He would come after so long and hang around for a few days. Was it two? Maybe three? She could barely remember. But he would leave. He would always leave. Regardless if Mom was feeling down, or if they needed help. He was always good for one thing; leaving. He'd come back, but it had nothing to do with their need. It was strictly schedule. It felt like betrayal. And now - now that Marceline finally found him, he was doing it again; betraying her. Those fries – they were hers. She worked so hard for those. And here he was – devouring them like a beast. With no regard to her what so ever. There was no savouring, no care taken upon the act, just obliteration.

He looks at her, mouth full.

She can't do anything but run.

Marceline doesn't know how long Hunson looks for her, she suspects it's for a little while – there's a strange sense of his presence for a time, but all she does is hide. After all this time, she had thought she wanted to find him. She knows now, that's not the case. She's curled up in an old, abandoned building – deep in the basement. Wrapping her frail arms about her legs and shivering. She's never missed Simon so much as she does now. But even he left her. Everyone left. Is she that repulsive? Facing her father feels terrifying. He feels like a stranger – like he will do nothing to her but devour her whole, just like those fries.

Hunson gives up, eventually. It's clear Marceline does not want to be found. Forcing her into the Night will do nothing for him, and after the humans killed themselves off, there's too much to do down there. Work needs to be done. Chaos needs just a little bit of order. He can't afford to be away for so long. His want to find her is strong; she's the only heir he has. But, she'll have to die someday, and when that happens, Hunson will be waiting with open arms. He can stand a few more decades, if Marceline even makes it that long.


	5. Chapter 5

When Marceline returns to the Candy Kingdom from her rendezvous with the vampires earlier that evening, she's so livid she feels like tearing someone's head off. She almost did. Even kinda regretting not doing it.

Dealing with anyone right now is out of the question. Prowling the corridors, mumbling under her breath, Marceline slips away inside of herself and becomes invisible – grumbling notwithstanding.

Her first stop is the kitchen. She's mad hungry and in her current state of being, it would be best to feed. Bonnie would have her head is she lost her temper and ended up devouring the red from some poor sap's frosting, or gumdrops, or whatever the flop these delicious chumps were made of.

There are two kitchens within the castle; one for the workers who lived there and one for Bubblegum, though Marceline has seen Peppermint pilfer through a few of her goodies on more than one occasion since she's been shacked up here. She assumes it's a regular occurrence that Bubblegum is aware of. There's not much that goes on in that castle that the Princess herself isn't privy to. The same goes for all of Ooo, for that matter. Marceline has stumbled across all manner of strange, fully functioning devices on her travels that look far too well-placed for her liking. She's totally inspected them. Some are for measuring certain things like weather and atmospheric conditions, some of them she was left scratching her head at with no idea of whatever sort of function they held, but most of them were recording devices. Marceline knows that no one but Bonnibel would have the resources, desire, and know how to put together such contraptions.

Once and a while, if she's floating along on a lazy ramble, bass in tow, and she spots one, Marceline will take up camp for an hour or so and strum out a little ditty or two. Sometimes ones she already knows, or ones she makes up on the spot; singing away into the night to the moon and the recorder, wondering if when Bubblegum goes through her tapes if she sits and listens or just speeds right through them.

Upon the invasion, Marceline had asked Bonnibel how the humans managed to slip past her radar. As paranoid as she thought all those cameras were, they sure would have been handy. Bubblegum had explained something hastily; seething through her teeth as she mentioned something about Flame Princess and a huge guilt trip a few years back. Marceline had crossed her arms at the notion, a jolt of anger spiking in her stomach. In all their years they'd known each other, and since Marceline had returned, not once did Bonnie ever show any guilt or remorse toward _her_. That fire was quickly extinguished as Marceline lassoed up her reactionary emotions and tossed them in her metaphorical trash bin. Not gonna do that anymore. Nope. Not if she could help it. That's what leaving in the first place had been for. But, maybe she'd recycle them later as shitty lyrics that would never make it to her recording equipment.

Either way, the humans had one up'd them, and now the vampires didn't want to cooperate. The nerve of them. Didn't they know who was supposed to be Queen? She'd eventually given up and decided leaving them to their own devices was best for now, but Marceline was still uber pissed.

Ripping open the refrigerator door a little too roughly, she scours the contents of Bubblegum's personal stash until she spots what she's looking for. Cheery cream soda. Marceline's favourite. The red of the cherry mixed with the pink of the drink, plus the carbonation – glob, words couldn't _even_.

She's seen Bubblegum put someone in the dungeon for jacking her soda.

Marceline takes two.

The first one is drained as she ascends the spiral staircase leading to Bubblegum's personal quarters. It's still relatively early and Marceline suspects she's still downstairs somewhere, hard at work. A relaxing shower is the only thing that warrants her attention right now to ease her about this evening's awful correspondence with her _own_ subjects, but she'll go down later to see if there's anything she can do to help.

So preoccupied with her unnerving thoughts and not bothering to question her own assumptions on Bubblegum's whereabouts, she doesn't think twice about opening the door without knocking.

Marceline floats a good two feet into the room before she registers the Princess sitting at her desk.

"Bonnie!"

Bubblegum's head shoots up. In being absolutely absorbed by what she was doing, she hadn't even noticed Marceline open the door. She's wide eyed with pointed ears pricked up, floating stance a little out of balance.

"Oh, Marceline, I didn't hear you come in."

"Sorry! I didn't mean to barge in…" Marceline fumbles, feeling the cold weight of the other drink in her hand. "I…brought you a soda?"

Bubblegum eyes her knowingly, but smiles regardless. "Thank you," she says, sweetly, accepting the cold beverage Marceline hands to her as she glides over.

"And how did yours taste?"

Marceline sighs, crumpling the other empty can that's behind her back and tossing it in the small bin under the desk.

"Outrageously algebraic. You're not gonna toss me in your dungeon are you?"

"Since you used a system of mathematics as a point of comparison to my favourite beverage, no, not today."

"Cool."

Marceline fidgets for a moment under Bubblegum's bespectacled stare.

"I uh, came up for a shower, thought you'd be in the hall. I can come back later."

"No," she answers almost before Marceline can finish her sentence. "No. I was assigning offensive and defensive preparations today. Just in case anything happens. I don't want to be caught off guard or unprepared if negotiations fall flat. I'll be leaving tomorrow to make contact with some of the other kingdoms. How did your meeting with the other vampires go?"

This question was meant to be innocent. It was mean to be uplifting; because anyone under Marceline's reign would be ally. It would be as she willed it. And vampires were of more benefit than a large portion of any other kingdom's armed forces. This portion was supposed to be a walk in the park.

Its clear Marceline is hesitant to answer. Her vision bounces around the room sporadically, hand shuffling in her long mane of hair. Finally though, she settles on Bubblegum. An honest answer is owed. Though Marceline feels she tried her best, while simultaneously succeeding in keeping what little of a kingdom she has glued together, she can't help but feel like she's failed Bonnibel in the worst of ways.

"Awful," she finally breathes; a gesture unwarranted, but still habitual even in her undead state. Bonnie's reaction is the last thing Marceline wants to take in, but she knows it's inevitable. She glances up.

And there it is.

Its sadness, and confusion and hopelessness.

It's, _'What do you mean things went wrong?'_

It's_, 'You're the Vampire Queen, you rule above, not below. What happened?'_

In Marceline's eyes, it's nothing but sheer disappointment.

Finally, Bonnibel asks, "What… what went wrong?"

Marceline clamps her eyes shut. Grod, she's so stupid. She can't look at her. Why didn't she just tell them what was what? Why didn't she just tell them, this is what we're doing, get over it. This is _not _a democracy. She's a coward.

She sighs. Marceline will tell her everything. This is technically her decision now, but honestly, depending on how Bonnibel reacts, she might very well change her mind. She'll go from savior to dictator in seconds if Bonnie wills it. She can't bring it in herself to hate Bubblegum for having that power over her.

"I left just after sundown," she begins.

There's a small posse of vamps huddled around a campfire roasting pink marshmallows till they're nothing but gunk, and then scraping the dripping bits off their sticks with strawberries afterwards. Marceline rarely ever makes an appearance around these parts, but it only takes a moment before they register her presence.

"Whoa, I thought I smelled Queen Bee," a stout, young looking vamp comments once she reveals herself from out of the woods.

Marceline knows his name, it's Benjamin. He's decked in a pair of worn jeans. His black sweater is punctured with holes; particularly in the lower sleeve region where his thumbs poke through make shift sectionals. He's got shaggy blonde hair and a beard to match. His outward appearance leaks of youth and joy, but she knows better. This hipster is older than her, she knows fair well. He was there at the time of her coronation, so to speak.

Technically, everyone here is either older than Marceline or a fraction younger. Though she has power, inherited from the last king, it isn't just that which keeps her in her current position; its respect.

There have been no vampires made under her rule. Who do you turn after all the humans have been either eaten or left for dead? Plus she couldn't afford any newborns running amuck and draining peeps that ought not to be drained.

She showed them the way of red, and left them alone. That was that.

"S'up?" she greets, casually taking up a vacant space upon one of the log benches around the fire.

There's a few grateful waves hello, polite greetings and whatnot before Marceline fully settles into the drawl environment.

Benjamin points a cooling marshmallow in her direction, which Marceline promptly peels off the stick.

"Oh, there's a few interesting things that happened last night."

Interesting? She doesn't like the sound of that. Her silence is a signal for him to continue.

"The humans were here. Just two. Looking for you."

_What?_ That didn't make much sense. She had attended negotiations with Bubblegum – leading her to believe the humans were aware of where her intentions and loyalties lied. Apparently, that was not enough.

Hovering casually in the air with her trademark, devil may care posture, Marceline snuggles around it comfortingly while she interrogates Benjamin. She does not like this one bit.

"Oh yeah? What'd they want?" she asks, too casually.

He blows on a heated stick of mallow before passing it to his left. Marceline glances about the fire pit. She doesn't notice Randalph at all, but that's to be expected. He enjoys his own company. Benjamin speaks once more.

"No surprise that they killed two shadows in the daylight," he says.

Shadows are beasts of the night; nocturnal as the vampires are but not nearly as cunning nor as sentient as the humans. Like dogs, sniffling and shuffling about until they consume their feed. Nothing inherently bad or good, just they worked upon the night.

The humans had a few charred them, apparently. _'Look what we can do. And we can do it to you, too.'_

Marceline grumbles, "And, so what?"

"They came here, knowing where we rested, though obviously we're thinking of switching up cribs now - they left us an ultimatum; for the war that might seriously be happening."

She's shaking.

"Which is?"

To Marceline's surprise, Benjamin actually smiles. "Oh don't worry, it's all good, Marce. They just want us to keep out of it – say they got no business with vamps. And, honestly, we all believe em'. We got no land they need. They'd just asked us to stay out of any feudal turf wars that don't involve our sick little hook up here."

There's a murmur of agreement amongst the circle that has Marceline nauseous.

"They _even_ said there were a few humans who are into to donating blood –"

"No."

Benjamin and the others are more than confused. It is not often that Marceline pulls rank, but when she does, it feels more than serious. There have been times in past centuries when it is outrageous and emotional; they can calm her down, but not today.

"The Candy Kingdom sits at a stalemate with the humans. If the candy people don't surrender, they'll be taken over," she states.

Benjamin leans forward, "Sorry…what exactly does that have to do with us? And also, blood; free blood."

Another vamp raises his hand from across the fire pit.

"Uh, last time we checked; we weren't aligned with anyone. I'm not gonna go get my hands dirty if I don't need to."

Before Marceline can get another word in, Benjamin stares at her incredulously.

"Wait, you want us to put our lives at risk for a group of mindless, bumbling candy half-wits that have done – and likely will do, nothing for us?"

Think, think, think.

Marceline tries as she's put on the spot to rationalize this request – this demand. But the way they're wording it to her now; she'd never thought of it that light. All she wanted to do was use any resources she had to help Bonnie. She'd forgotten than her resources were their own bodies; bodies and minds that had nothing to do with her qualms. Not to mention, despite all the rumors, fables and books written on vampires, when they realized they didn't actually need blood to survive, it turned out they were pretty chill. Lazy, even. Who wouldn't be? Knowing you could live forever drinking colour as long as you didn't provoke anyone enough to get stabbed through the heart or hit direct sunlight. Though they were much stronger than many of the citizens inhabiting Ooo, with no real need to be predatory anymore, there wasn't much reason for anyone to want to attempt to do away with them. The vampires were realtively peaceful. Marceline has made sure they stayed that way.

She could force them, yes? Really put her authority out there so it left them with no question as to who was in charge. With the power she gained from killing the last King plus her demonic abilities on top of that, Marceline has no doubt she could lay waste to each and every one of them even if they decided to gang up on her. Not to mention all the human blood she got junked up on last week that was still pumping crazy in her veins. But…she doesn't _want_ to do that.

Marceline may not spend much time with these people, or dictate what they do aside from a few simple rules she laid down centuries ago, but she _knows_ them. They're kind of her friends. And on top of all that, despite how much she wants to slap them all and demand they do as she says to help the Candy Kingdom, because that's what _she_ wants; she can't help but feel that they're _right_.

Benjamin can see her scowling behind the light of the fire; trying to come up with something to say.

"Look, Marceline, most of us know you're real…close…with the candy chick."

She fights off an agitated grumble, and a punch to his face. He continues.

"But, we're not. And last we all checked, we are technically a kingdom. Not a traditional one, but we are. And this feud has _nothing_ to do with us. It has to do with _you_."

Marceline ejects herself from the log, ghosts over the fire in preparation to leave. Benjamin means to say something, but she gets there first.

"_No one_ is to take any blood from those humans."

"But they said –"

"Willing or otherwise," she turns back with a sharp glare, scowl still plastered upon her face.

"You want to stay out of this? Fine, we stay out of this. The second you accept from them, that means we are in this. If I sense that any one of you has had even a drop, trust me you're in for some seriously nasty bizz."

Marceline disappears into the woods, leaving most of them gaping in surprise and the rest to continue as they were with their sweet, pink marshmallows.

Bubblegum's head is turned away, hands fiddling with the frills of her dress. Distracting her, the balled up energy inside that she doesn't know what to do with seeping down and through her fingers in rhythmic motions along the coarse folds. It's not enough, but its unconscious and it will do.

"I'm sorry," Marceline chokes out.

The ache in her voice jolts Bonnibel from the inside of her own head. She's weighing, calculating, searching for other options, and above all she feels somewhat hurt – however invalid the logic in that feeling may be, but the vampire pulls her back into reality.

Marceline's face is utterly distressed.

"I'm sorry," she repeats. "I – I can go back. I can tell them-"

"No."

Bonnibel lets out a shaky breath.

"Marceline, you did the right thing."

She's not floating. She can't bring herself to, not when she feels like this; anything but light. She's heavy, weighted down.

"But, Bonnie…I'm in charge, I can make them –"

"Don't. They're right," Bubblegum states again, more firmly. She's agitated, Marceline can tell by the tone of her voice. Whether it's with her, or the situation, or both, she can't quite tell but it's leaving her in an uncomfortable state as well.

Marceline frowns, drops her head. It's heavy too. She's can't bring herself to lift it.

Bonnibel sighs deeply and steels herself. "I would not condone a leader of a kingdom making decisions on behalf of its people for their own personal matters while disregarding their citizens and their safety. They're not involved."

Her head feels lighter. Marceline lifts it to meet Bubblegum's iron façade, and she continues.

"I also realize you are the sole representative of the vampires, and within that position, your actions against any human forces will be seen as an act derived from your entire Kingdom. And…thus… I do not expect you to put yourself forward to attend to my aid any further."

This, Marceline cannot fathom. It's so ridiculous she almost laughs but Bubblegum's face is deadly serious.

"Bonnie, no. Now you're just – I mean, have you gone bonkers? As if I'd just let you deal with this crap on your own, are you serious right now?"

Marceline is almost mad she even insinuated the notion.

Bonnibel turns her nose up and flicks her head to the side again to avoid eye contact.

That doesn't work with Marceline. She cringes at the dismissal and lifts off the ground to breach the border of Bubblegum's desk. Propping her hands on the princess's shoulders, she drops back down to the ground, forcing her to look at her.

"Hey, this is insulting you know! How long have we known each other Bonnie? Huh?"

She still won't look at her.

"If you honestly think I'm going to just peace out on all of this –"

Bonnibel almost blurts out that it wouldn't be the first time she's left.

"That I'm going to just leave you to those…those beasts, then, you're the dumbest person I've ever met"

That does it.

Bubblegum pins Marceline in place with her fiery gaze.

"Do not insult my intelligence, Marceline."

"Then don't say stupid shit!"

Her hands slump from the princess's shoulders. "…I'm not leaving…can't do that. Someone else can be Queen, I don't care." It sounds stubborn and childish, but upon this admission, Marceline realizes the potential weight of everything she's been saying to her. This is serious. It's all too serious. Things haven't been this decent between them for a long while since before she left the last time. She wants to help but she also doesn't want to ruin this.

"Homies help homies, Bon. Always," she mumbles. It's commitment, but it's casual, and it's something that Bonnibel feels comfortable with.

It's been years since they've hugged, and it takes Marceline by surprise when Bubblegum comes out of her chair to wrap her arms around her. Surprising for sure, but the familiarity of it sinks into Marceline's bones as she gives right back. She's always been cold and dead for longer than she cares to remember, but the warmth she has engulfing her now will make her royal shower that's calling her name, and all the next ones after that, pale in comparison. She forgot how much she's missed this. She forgot how much life actually pulses within her. Now she remembers.


End file.
